


Lost In a Parking Garage - Hetalia x Reader

by Gold_Blooded



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cameos, F/M, Humor, Lost - Freeform, Parking Garage, goldfish, lost in a parking garage, some of you really need to pee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gold_Blooded/pseuds/Gold_Blooded
Summary: A funny story of how you and your group of friends (Francis, England & America) get lost in a parking garage at a mall.





	Lost In a Parking Garage - Hetalia x Reader

[Quick note: This is more like a France, England, America x Reader with other Hetalia characters making cameos. Enjoy!]

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The elevator heads down towards a certain level in a parking garage, hosting a peculiar set of individuals that are bound to get themselves in a whole lot of trouble. 

 

There’s Alfred: a tall blond-haired man with a stubborn ahoge along with piercing blue eyes that were framed by his glasses. He's known to be the strongest of your group and is fairly muscular, which is why he was carrying a rather large and heavy box, and even with his built, he's having a rough time carrying the item. 

 

There's also Francis: A man who hailed from France with sandy blond hair that reaches down to his shoulders and was adorned with equally blue eyes as Alfred, but yet, different somehow. He's the most stylish out of your group, meaning he was the most willing to go to the mall to observe the clothes that have been showcased, but ended up not buying a thing.

 

Another male named Arthur was also a part of the company that went to the mall. His dirty blond hair was all tousled in a nice way but his thick eyebrows were quite a few shades darker. Underneath those brows were green eyes that would make emeralds hide themselves in shame for years under the earth until the day people will stop comparing them to his eyes, or forget his colored orbs altogether. The grumpy Brit went to the mall to solely get the same thing Alfred was holding; however, they were out of stock of that item or of any item that was remotely better than what Alfred was carrying.

 

And then there was you. A simple, but yet interesting girl who got somehow befriended these weirdos. You also tried getting the same thing Alfred had bought, but you shared Arthur's predicament. Instead, you settled on buying a pair of goldfish that you were admiring in the plastic bag they were in, swimming around aimlessly. Possibly staring at the strange world humans lived in - their own little fish bowl.

 

But what was it that you and Arthur wanted to buy? An air-conditioner. Your air conditioner at your apartment worked adequately except with the random banging noises it created when it switched it's mode in the middle of the night. You've nearly had a heart attack every time it happened and had to result to plugging in headphones into your ears and falling asleep to some soft music. That may not sound bad, but the downside is that your ears would hurt after having them in for a while. And waking up to sore ears is not the best way to start your day. 

 

Arthur on the other hand had his air-conditioner in his apartment breakdown. The weather these days were merciful these days, being cooler than those blistering days at the beginning at fall. Arthur had to find every fan he owned in the closets of his apartment and the storage room he rented to keep his room at a relatively cool temperature when the sun heats up his living space. And quite frankly, he's tired of almost face-planting into the floor every time he stumbles over a wire. And Alfred had moved into a new place, so he just had to get one.

 

The four of you were all stuffed in the elevator as it headed down to the multi-level parking garage, the dark and creaky thing making your apparent weight feel lighter. 

 

“One left...what a joke.” Arthur muttered.

 

“You can have this one.” Alfred jostled the large box, showing off the air-conditioner he had bought on sale.

 

“No, that's not enough BTUs for my living room...That was a complete waste of time.”

 

“Hey, I didn't get one either,” you chimed in, breaking your gaze from your goldfish.

 

Francis just sighed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Why do I always 'ave the feeling zat everybody's doing zumtheng bettair than me on Saturday aftairnoons?”

 

“This is what people do,” you deadpanned.

 

“Non eet isn't,” he argued. “They're oot on zum big picnic. They're cooking a meal. They're making love. They're not at zum mall watching zeir friends trying to find la world's cheapest air condishe-onair.”

 

The elevator grinded to a halt, allowing the silver doors slide upon to release a quartet of you young adults into the parking garage that was filled. Acres of shiny paintwork over the smooth concrete. 

 

“You should see what my father used to go through before he bought a car.” Arthur started one of his anecdotes. “He'd go from state to state. He was away for weeks at a time. It was like he was running for President and he was going through the primaries. Getting phone calls from motels in New Hampshire.”

 

You scoffed at him. “So we took a little ride. What's the big deal?” 

 

“Well at least you accomplished something. You got fish.” 

 

You smiled at that as you observed the underwater animals, their gold scales shining like the most delicate of armor plating. They reminded you of fall leaves, vibrant and thin.

 

Alfred picked up the pace, cradling the AC unit firmly against his chest. “Car's this way.”

 

“What time is it?” Arthur asked.

 

Francis checked his wristwatch, “Five o'clock.”

 

“Always late. Always late.” He chanted to himself.

 

You looked over your shoulder to see the stressed Englishman. “You're not late.” 

 

“I told them to meet me in front of my building at six-fifteen.”

 

“Who?” Francis asked.

 

“My parents. It's their anniversary,” Arthur grunted. “I'm taking them out to dinner. You think we'll hit traffic?”

 

“Of course we'll 'it traffic. It eez rush hour.”

 

“Can’t we just go around traffic by going on another way?” You suggested.

 

Being the pessimist he is, Arthur replied grimly. “There is no other way in this city. Everybody goes every way all the bloody time.” 

 

“But it's Saturday.” You pointed out.

 

“Ohon hon~ You got lé picnic traffic.” Francis joked.

 

“I always get myself in this position,” Arthur shook his head in indignation. “Can't be on time. Gotta rush.” 

 

Alfred stops walking and looks around seemingly confused, his cerulean eyes observing the many automobiles within the vicinity.

 

“What's the matter?” you asked. The tall American just mumbled something under his breath and continued to walk forward.

 

“I have to go to the bathroom. Why do they hide the bathroom in these malls?” Arthur complained. Alfred stumbles with the air-conditioner, nearly making the box hit the floor. Observing the American’s struggle, Arthur rolled up his sleeves. “You want me to help you with that?”

 

“No, no, I got it.” Alfred insisted as he temporarily rested the box on the ground and massaged his tired forearms.

 

Meanwhile, Francis spotted a rather beautiful and busty woman. Her high heels clack with every step against the concrete and her hips swayed with a rhythm, unconsciously showing off her tall frame with killer curves. The bright red lipstick on her lips matched the red jacket wore, and her green purse rested between her fingers, carrying her items she needed for shopping.

 

He nudges the grumpy Brit next to him. “What do you think, Angleterre?” He used that strange French nickname he dubbed him with long ago.

 

Arthur blinked at the Frenchman, not understanding what he was referring to until he looked the other way to see that same woman strut by them as if she was a model on a catwalk. Arthur turned back to Francis seemingly annoyed. “Did I need that pointed out for me? What is that going to do for me? How does that help me, to see her? I'm trying to live my life. Don't show me that.”

 

He wrapped an arm around Arthur. “Ohon hon hon~ You need to be more sociable and talk to woman like zat~”

 

“Yeah, right.” Arthur shoved the flirtatious male off of him. “I'll just go up and say: Hi, how you doing? Would you like a glass of white wine?”

 

Slightly envious of all the attention that woman was getting you decided to add your own commentary. “Before you got within twenty feet of this woman, she'd have her finger on the mace button. She's like an expensive car with one of those motion-sensor force field alarms. Any sudden movement in the area could set her off.”

 

“She's kinda fat, anyway.” Alfred said, finally carrying the AC unit once more and taking the lead.

 

“Oh, she's fat?” You teased.

 

Instead of getting the usual reaction from the tall American who would usually throw a fit, start rolling the muscles of his stomach, or talk about his workout routine, Alfred simply ceases to walk again with the same confused emotion covering his countenance.

 

You looked in every direction Alfred was looking at to see what was amiss. “What?”

 

“Where's zhe car?” Francis asked.

 

Alfred muttered, “I thought it was here...” 

 

“You don't know where we parked?” Arthur’s voice was dripping with the quiet rage stirring within him. Alfred scopes the parking garage once more before he resumes walking, you and your friends follow.

 

“Oh, this is bloody great.”

 

“Blue-one. I thought it was blue-one.” Alfred continued to speak his thoughts out loud, referring to the parking spot. Within the multilevel parking lot, each level had a distinct area that was assigned a color with the columns in the area painted that same color. For instance, you were in the blue section and could tell by he color of the columns that supported the concrete ceiling above. Then each parking space had a specific number written on the wall. However, color-coding and numbering the spaces served your group little justice.

 

“I thought zhe car was een zhe vert section. I remember seeing green.” Francis added his own thought to the conversation.

 

“I didn't pay attention.” you stated bluntly.

 

“This is just what I bloody need...”

 

“I'm sure it's right around here.” Alfred propped the AC unit in his arms upward by balancing on one leg and using the other to knee the box up. “It looks familiar. I remember the elevator.” 

 

Arthur’s lid blew. “There's elevators all over! It all looks the bloody same! We’re like lab rats in a maze!”

 

“It's over zhere. I know where it eez.” Francis now takes the lead and the others follow.

 

“It's black, right?” you asked Alfred. 

 

He shook his head in response. “Dark blue.”

 

“There it eez!” Relief washed over the group until Francis got near the vehicle. “Non, non zat's a Toyota. Hmmm...I thought it was…”

 

Alfred, with much difficulty, manage to hold the AC unit with one arm and used the other to point behind him. “Didn't we come in over there?” 

 

“I thought it was ovair zhere.” Francis pointed behind him. Though the men pointed in opposite directions, they both gave the same impressions; a large parking garage that seemingly stretched for miles.

 

Your voice sucked the men out of their stupor, “How long can fish live in one of these plastic bags?” You held up the plastic pouch that contained your goldfish, swimming in circles within their small enclosure.

 

“About two hours.” Arthur informed.

 

You looked at your watch, only to turn to Alfred sternly. “You better find this car.”

 

“It eez zis way…” Francis muttered, letting his tuition lead the way to the pink-section of the gargantuan garage. You guys take off again, pairing off; Francis walking alongside you and Alfred and Arthur trailing behind. 

 

“I really have to go to the bathroom.” Arthur complained to Alfred.

 

“Why don't you go behind one of these cars?” Arthur shoots him a look to know if his friend was serious or not. Alfred continued, “Why? Nobody's around.” 

 

“I'll wait.” Arthur said annoyed. 

 

“You know when you hold it in like that you can cause a lot of damage to your bladder. That's what happens to truck drivers. They hold it in all the time. Eventually it starts coming out involuntarily.”

 

“Alright.” Arthur replied getting irked.

 

“Artie, you’re aware that adult diapers are a six-hundred million dollar a year industry, right?”

 

“Maybe I should just go anytime I get the urge, like you, wherever I am.” The Brit sarcastically said. “There's too much urinary freedom in this society. I'm proud to hold it in; it builds character.”

 

Alfred jostled the large package in his arms once again. “Will you let me help you with that?” Arthur offered in an annoyed manner.

 

When he managed to grip the parcel more firmly, a light bulb went off in the jock’s head. “I'm gonna put it down behind that car.” 

 

Arthur’s lips curled into a sneer as Alfred strode up to a random parked car to sandwich it between the wall and the vehicle. “You're not worried somebody's gonna pee on it?” 

 

Setting the box down, Alfred looked at the parking code sign and then turned to you. “‘Kay, I put the AC behind this car in the pink section of the garage at parking spot eleven... So pink-eleven. Remember that, guys.”

 

“Oh, I got it,” you said to Francis. “That’s what I’m supposed to remember. Where the car is, that's insignificant.”

 

“I can tell you this,” Arthur clenched and un-clenched his fists as he tried to calm himself down. “If I am not in front of my house at six-fifteen, when my parents get there, they will put me on an aggravation installment plan that will compound with interest for decades.”

 

“Parents never forget a foul-up.” You added, holding your pet goldfish closer to your chest. “I once left a jacket on the bus when I was fourteen. Last month I was flying into [fav. Place] and got a phone call from my mom: 'make sure you hang onto your jacket.'”

 

“Where the bloody hell is this car, Alfred?”

 

“Chill, dude. It's got to be here.”

 

“Why are they using so many colors?” You inquired as you approached a different section, the Brit's vexation rubbing off on you. “And the numbers go up to fifty.”

 

Francis slowed his pace until he stopped as a terrifying thought crossed his mind “...Maybe it eez not on... zis level.”

 

Arthur who was ahead of him heard this, and stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

 

“Zere are four diffairent levels. Maybe we're on zhe wrong level.” Francis repeated with more background to his conjecture. “'Ow long was zhe escalator ride up?”

 

“It felt like a couple of levels.” you admitted.

 

Alfred gave the moral of the story away too quickly, “You should always carry a pad and pen.” 

 

“Where is the bathroom in this mall?!” Arthur shouted. “There are six-hundred stores, I didn't see one bathroom. What is this, like a joke? Don't they consult a urologist when they build one of these things?!” 

 

You were about to laugh at the Englishman's rhetorical questions until you all heard a loud booming voice shout: “I found it!” Apparently, Alfred wandered off sometime during the Englishman’s rant.

 

You shook Arthur’s shoulder with your freehand, overjoyed. “He's got it!”

 

Upon locating Alfred, your hopes were crushed once more when he corrected himself. “Oh...no never mind.”

 

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mon Dieu, zat's it. From now on no more calling oot zéy found eet, unlez we're sitting een it. Oui?”

 

You held up the plastic that held your beloved goldfish, concern etched into your face. 

 

“Arthur, look at my fish.” You held up the bag in front of your face. Arthur adjusts his height so his face is at your level, the plastic bag in the middle.

 

“His eyes look a little cloudy.” Arthur said in thought as he peered into the bag. But then, he cracked a smile, “Oh, those are your eyes.” 

 

From his point of view your face was all distorted, making your (e/c) orbs appear like blobs to him through the transparent bag. You lowered your arm in resignation, a scowl now written on your face as he smirks. ‘That tease…’

 

Francis confronted Alfred. “I thought you knew zis mall, mon ami; you said you've been here before!”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, “It was easy the last time.”

 

“My fish are dying right in front of me!” You groaned exasperatedly. “We have to get someone to drive us around the parking lot to help us look for the car.”

 

“No one's going to do that.”

 

Ignoring Arthur’s pessimistic remark, you turned your head in every which way until you spotted a forty-ish, stylish couple walking to their car. You hurried yourself over, careful to not jiggle your new pets in the process.

 

“Excuse me,” you said with an apologetic smile once you caught up to the pair. “We can't seem to find our car, and I was wondering if it would be possible - if you're not in a hurry - to drive us around the garage for five minutes so we can look.”

 

The middle-aged man held his hands up and offered his own apologetic smile, yet his seemed to be insipid. “...Sorry.”

 

“It’s just five minutes.” you lightly pushed.

 

“Can't do it,” he denied you once more as he held the passenger door open to let his wife in.

 

Your smile disappeared. “We're not skinheads.”

 

The middle-aged man looked at you funny as you walked away in search of another individual who’d be more than willing to help. You approached two women - one with short blonde hair, one with brunette locks - around your age who seemed to be like those typical "mall kids" from the nineties, both dressing in a similar way. Worn and torn jeans covered their legs, skin tight tank-tops clad their torso, and both wore calf high boots, and dark kohl eyeliner that lined their upper lids. Usually, you’d be intimidated by such beautiful yet snobbish looking girls, but not when your goldfish lives on the line.

 

“Excuse me,” you tried to use the same tactic once more. They're millennials, right? They should be able to relate and offer help. “I can't seem to find my car - do you think you could drive me…”

 

Before you could finish your sentence, the brunette nudged the blonde and they both started laughing.

 

Your smile took on a more crazed look, “Oh that's funny? Is that funny? Well tell me if you think this is funny.” You gritted your teeth in anger is you held up the plastic bag. “These fish are dying! They're gasping for oxygen right now! They'll be floating in an hour. Is that funny too?” They ignored you and kept laughing, reminding you of cackling hyenas.

 

Growling in anger and wishing you had a slipper to teach them some manners, you found another target. A bespectacled man with short, light blond hair and greenish-blue eyes, just exited the mall. His long blue overcoat, flapping from his motion. He seemed like the quiet type, but you wouldn't let that make your determination falter.

 

“Excuse me.” The tall male walked past you as if you were a ghost. Following behind him, you spoke a little louder “Excuse me?”

 

Still not listening.

 

Knowing that this wasn’t going to help you further, your anger got the better of you, causing your tone to become extremely sarcastic, “Hey, sorry to disturb you - terribly sorry. But the fish will be dead!” The man walks off at a faster pace as you continued to shout at him. “You do know that, right?! They can’t live in plastic. That’s not me talking, that’s SCIENCE!”

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The trio of boys walked off to search for the car, wishing you luck on your mission. The parking garage began to feel like a prison; drab grey walls, ceilings and floors that surrounded them and the monotony of it all was slowly driving them crazy. Upon walking Francis felt a sudden weight in his lower region, specifically his bladder, and is now sharing the same burden as Arthur. 

 

“It's amazing 'ow badly you need to go the loo when zere’s nowhere to go,” he whispered to Alfred. “'Ow does my bladder know know zat I’m lost een a parking garage like Angleterre.”

 

“So why don't you just go?” Alfred offered the same suggestion.

 

Francis, knowing exactly what he meant, waved his hand in disapproval “Non, I can't.”

 

“Don't you get tired of following rules?” 

 

“You’re saying zat I'm too cautious?”

 

“Why be uncomfortable if you don't have to? It's organic.” One of Francis’s biggest weakness is discomfort. He likes to be comfortable no matter the place or time. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

He sighed. “All right. All right.”

 

Pointing to a corner, Alfred spoke. “You can go over there. I’ll go where Arthur is and come back around here later.”

 

Hesitantly nodding, Francis went to a small area tucked away from prying eyes. The space provided no actual use - except in this circumstance. It was probably some avant garde idea that stemmed from the architect designing this infrastructure, or perhaps it was an impractical storage room that was sealed off by concrete. Going into the the small hiding place, Francis hands flew to his zipper…

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

Francis felt quite proud of himself; it didn’t splatter anywhere, meaning his shoes were safe from being… sterile in the wrong sense. Zipping up his pants, and hoisting up his pants, he turned around only to be face to face with a man in uniform. 

 

The security guard stood with his arms crossed and a very condescending look on his face. He was a tall, muscular man, with sleek blond hair and blue eyes.

 

Francis nervously chuckled, “Bonjour, monsieur…” Maybe if he acted like a confused immigrant who know no English, he would let him off the hook. Instead, the security guard swiftly put on handcuffs, so fast that Francis didn’t know he had them on until he tried to move his hands and heard the sound of chains. “But…”

 

The officer just led Francis by the forearm dragging him to a security guard office. Basically a small room with a desk and two chairs on either side. 

 

“S’il vous plait, monsieur, I've 'ad zis condition since I was eleven!” Francis, not wanting to stay in the office with a very intimidating officer, is making up all the excuses he can to get out. “I've been een and oot of 'ospitals my whole life. I 'ave no control over it. Doctors 'ave told me zat when I feel it, the best thing to do is just release it. Otherwise, I could die.”

 

“You're still not allowed.” The officer said in a thick German accent.

 

“Do you 'ear what I'm saying to you?! I'm telling you zat if I don't go, I could die. Kaput! Eez it worth dying for?”

 

“That's up to you.”

 

“So you don' care if I die?” Crocodile tears formed at the corner of Francis' eyes.

 

The German security guard replied in an austere tone. “What I care about is the sanitary condition of the parking facility.”

 

“It was life and death.”

 

“.....” The officer just stared the Frenchman down, obviously not believing a single word he has said.

 

“Oh, I'm lying,” Francis feigned sarcasm. “Why would I do it unlez I was een mortal danger? I know it's against zhe law.”

 

“I don't know.” He responded indifferently.

 

“Because I could get ammonia poisoning and die. Zat's why!...” Francis glanced at the security officer's name tag. “Listen, Mr. Beilschmidt - I mean, Officer Beilschmidt. Do you think I enjoy living like this?...Zhe shame, zhe humiliation...You know I 'ave been issued a public urination pass by the city because of my condition. Unfortunately my little brother ran oot of zhe house wiv it this morning. Him and his friends are probably peeing all over zhe place. You want to call the Department of Social Services? Oh, it's Saturday. They're closed today. My luck.”

 

~~~~~~~~ 

 

Here's another dilemma that had interwove with your current one: the lack of phones. Your phone was dead and left it home to charge since it wasn't going to be of any use on your trip. Alfred is a pretty unorganized man-child, so he had most likely left his phone in the car. Arthur's phone ran out of batteries to quickly and had died during your stay at the mall, and Francis didn't have a phone since it was getting repaired at some store that he planned on dropping by later today. Without any conventional way to be in touch, you resulted the primitive way of communicating: Shouting.

 

“Francis!” A loud American voice boomed in the parking garage, bouncing off of the concrete walls.

 

No ohon hon’s here.

 

“Hey, Francey-pants!” Alfred shouted, who’s now starting to feel just as panicked as the rest of his group. “Oh no, dudes, I'm never gonna get out of here. The guy goes to pee, he never comes back. It's like one of those science fiction movies I like to watch.”

 

“Maybe he went to one of the other levels,” you proposed. “I'll go look for him.” 

 

“Oh, now you're gonna go?” Arthur glanced at you disapprovingly. 

 

“I'll be back in five minutes,” you reassured them, as you left the two men behind.

 

“Oh what's the difference? We'll all be dead eventually.” Alfred grumbled.

 

“Does that bother you?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yes, it bothers me! Doesn't it bother you?”

 

The green-eyed man shook his head. “Not at all.”

 

“See, now that bothers me even more than dying, because it's people like you who live to be a hundred and twenty because you're not bothered by it. How could it not bother you?”

 

Arthur cracked his knuckles as spoke aloud his thought. “I once read a novel about people who are terminally ill. And they all believed that the secret of life is just to live every moment.”

 

Alfred waved his hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah. I've heard that. Meanwhile, I'm here with you in a parking garage, what am I supposed to do?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Back at the security guard's office...

 

“First of all you don't even know technically zat I went. Zat's for starters. I mean I could've been pouring a bottle of water oot zhere. You don't know.” Francis droned on, still not admitting his fault.

 

“I know what you did.” Officer Beilshmidt, or rather Ludwig (Francis would like to themselves on first name terms now) responded monotonously.

 

“Oh really, you do? Well, it just zo 'appens that I did pour water oot. I had a bottle of very tepid water and I poured it out. And I could see 'ow you made a mistake, because pouring water oot sounds very much like a person urinating. And you know when you think about it, it's really quite an amusing case of mistaken identity. That's all it eez.”

 

“.....”

 

“You know, zis eez not the first time zis 'as 'appened to me. I always carry water because of my condition. It dehydrates me. It's a vicious cycle.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

“...And now he's gone.” you wrapped up your story. “I'm sure he's looking for the car. Five minutes, that's all. I just want to find him.”

 

You were yet again stalking people in hopes of them letting you into their car to be your aid - your savior, and found a young East Asian man in hip-hop clothes with choppy dark brown hair that comes down to his jaw, and light brown eyes. But you received the same answer your ears have grown tired of hearing.

 

“I can't do it.”

 

“But why? Why can't you do it?” you genuinely wanted to know the answer.

 

The male shrugged, “I can't.”

 

You gave him a humorless chuckle “No, see that's not a reason 'you can't.' You just don't want to.”

 

The man thought about it for a second and nodded, “That's right.”

 

“But why? Why don't you want to?” you asked as he was getting into the driver's seat of his car.

 

He shrugged once more. “I don't know.”

 

You were persistent, and still tried to lure him in. “Wouldn't you get any satisfaction out of helping someone out?”

 

“No. I wouldn't.” he deadpanned before shutting the car door shut and drove off, leaving you in despair.

 

~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Francis was still sitting in the swivel chair in the Ludwig's security room. He deeply sighed through his nose as the German officer was going over some paperwork on a clipboard.

 

“All right, all right. I want to apologize,” Francis started. “I was frightened, I said crazy things. I obviously offended you. I insulted your intelligence. Zhe medical condition, zhe water bottle...I made it all up, and now...I'm going to tell you zhe truth.” 

 

Ludwig lifted his gaze from the papers as he stared at Francis, with little emotion in his frigid blue eyes. 

 

Francis leans forward in his chair. “Today my father and mother are celebrating zheir wedding anniversary. We made arrangements to spend zhe evening together. Zey are supposed to be in front of my building at six-fifteen.”

 

Ludwig was actually showing a sign of interest as he arched a brow waiting for the frivolous man to continue. But that interest quickly disappeared when Francis began to lie (horribly) again. At this point, it was more for his own entertainment than actually trying to leave.

 

“What I 'aven't told you, or anyone else for that matter, eez zat my father's been in a prison for zhe past fourteen years...”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~ 

 

 

The fuming Brit certainly stood out in the parking garage. He was now hopping in place or pacing back and forth quickly to soothe the urge of having to go. “I've gotta go to the bathroom,” he complained to his American companion.

 

“So go.”

 

Arthur twitched angrily, “Alfred…”

 

Said male shook his head, “You and Francis...”

 

Arthur grinded his teeth in frustration as Alfred walked off trying to search for his dumb car. With his emerald eyes, he surveyed the parking lot until his eyes landed on a weird hallway that lead to nowhere - a secret hideout in this wilderness of cars. A nook similar to the one Francis had used but not the same place. Sighing, Arthur observed his surroundings in a casual James Bond style before heading his way over.

 

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

 

Though he retained a lot in his bladder, the micturition was a quick and clean process. It’s time like these where his male anatomy came in handy, other than… you know. Expelling a sigh out of relief, he zipped up the fly of his jeans and turned around…

 

Only to see the staunch mall security guard, Officer Ludwig Beildshmidt, glaring down at him with crossed arms. Arthur just silently acquiesced by holding out his arms for the officer to cuff. He’s not even going to try getting out of this one...

 

...Yet.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Don't you believe me? It's their anniversary. You know this is gonna kill him. You're aware of that. Kill him. On the biggest night of his life…” Arthur said, sitting next to the Frenchman he currently hated and across the intimidating German security guard in his room.

 

“Oh? Was your father in prison, too?” His blue eyes were still, showing that he was not amused. 

 

Arthur’s face contorted in confusion when a sudden thought flooded his brain. Slowly, he swiveled his head towards Francis, giving him one of the scariest death glares that he ever summoned in quite a while.

 

Francis just smiled weakly, “Ohon hon…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You wandered around the mall aimlessly, calling out their names, and frequently checking on your fish, offering an apologetic look with your worried (e/c) orbs every time you stared into their innocent gold and black ones. But your ears perked up when you heard two very familiar voices bickering. “Arthur?!”

 

“[Name]! Over here...” You did a one-eighty and spotted both Arthur and Francis. They have both been released once they have been given tickets for public urination and after Ludwig had just about enough frivolity for one day. 

 

“Where have you been?” Frustration evident in your tone, approaching the pair. 

 

“We were arrested for urinating.”

 

“I-I wasn’t” Arthur stuttered. Francis rolled his eyes and gave you a wink; the action wasn’t necessary though, you could see through the Brit’s lies.

 

“Wow, I never knew you still had a bit of punk in you.” You smirked as Arthur’s ears were tinged red, stuttering at every lie or excuse he could muster. When Francis asked where Alfred had gone, you simply groaned saying that you haven't the foggiest.

 

“And that’s not the worst of it. Look at my fish…” You held up your goldfish to the men, both of their faces appearing to be distorted as they peered through the bag. Your goldfish seemed to be sluggish in their movement. 

 

“He's not looking good…” Arthur stated, giving you and your aquatic creatures a sympathetic glance. 

 

Out of desperation, you made a beeline to two large, muscular men in their workout wear. You ran in front of them and started to walk backwards as they continued to move forward, trying to ignore you. Arthur and Francis were pursuing at a distance.

 

“Please,” you begged. “We can't find our car. Please, just drive us around the parking lot to find our car. My fish are dying.”

 

“Can't do it.” You swear to God, if you heard that line one more time you’re going to spew out your own blood, like how Arthur did during the last fourth of July... strangely.

 

“I can see not caring what happens to us, we're humans. But what about the fish?” You held out the bag in front of them and continued to plead. “The fish?”

 

“Sorry,” one of the bodybuilders said as they kept walking. 

 

Stopping in your tracks out of resignation, you let your anger, your sarcasm, and your tongue take control of your mind and body. “Fine then, go. Go home to your dumbbells. Work on your pecs. We're all really impressed.”

 

They also ceased their motion, just to turn around and glare at you. You swore you saw one of them had their forehead vein throb, but that didn’t deter you from what you had to say. “That's right you heard me. You got a problem with that?”

 

You felt an arm wrap around you and a tug in the other direction. “[Name],” Arthur murmured in a low tone, offering the pair of menacing curmudgeons a weak, nervous grin “Shut up.”

 

Submitting your will to backtalk, you leaned into Arthur’s embrace as he steered you back to where Francis was standing at.

 

“You know, you might as well dressed Alfred up in a red and white striped shirt wiv a matching pom-pom hat. Zen at least it’d be entertaining to find 'im.” He flicked his hair and huffed out of irritation.

 

Arthur caught a glimpse of Francis’ wrist watch and threw his hands up in the air. “Look at the time, that's it.”

 

“Have we looked over there? Have we checked that side?” You asked, aiming your finger at the other side of the garage. 

 

“We came in ovair zere!” Francis huffed.

 

“We didn't come in over there! Oh, where's Alfred when you need him?”

 

Something familiar caught Francis eye. Looking away from you, Francis sees the attractive woman he was pointing out to Arthur earlier, putting her shopping bags in the trunk of her automobile. “Hey, Angleterre, zere she eez again…”

 

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “Could you not be distracted by female body parts just this once? We’re dealing with a crisis.”

 

“Is zumone jealous?” Francis taunted, a light blush coloring in your cheeks.

 

“So what do you want me to do?” Arthur interjected.

 

“Ask her to drive us around. Zere's your opening.” 

 

“Why can’t I ask?” you recommended.

 

“Ohon hon~ and 'ow many people managed to 'elp you in return, ma chere?” You closed your mouth at Francis statement and stomped the concrete ground.

 

Arthur grumbled in irritation, rubbing his temples. Reluctantly, he approaches the woman tentatively. “Excuse me...I really... What's happened is that my friend forgot where he parked and if you're not in a big hurry, we'd really appreciate it if...”

 

“Oh sure, I'll drive you around.” At those words, you nearly jumped for joy. If it was possible, you’d marry this woman before your male friends had the chance to.

 

“Y-You will?” you felt your mouth go dry at the sudden shock.

 

“Sure,” she chirped cheerfully.

 

“Thanks a lot. I'm really late. My parents are waiting in front of my building and we're stuck here.” Arthur explained.

 

The woman smiled kindly, “No problem! I wouldn't want to get lost in here. It smells like a toilet. People are such animals.”

 

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and Francis twiddled his fingers whilst you smirked at the two. “Yeah, right...” The Brit muttered.

 

“Filthy pigs,” Francis agreed. You all climbed into the woman's car. Arthur and you sat in the back whilst Francis called shotgun and sat next to her. Little did you know, that this momentary relief will be short-lived.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The car screeched to a halt, rubber tires leaving streaks of ebony on the concrete floor. You, Arthur, and Francis got out of the car as the woman angrily slammed on the accelerator and drove off. You glared at the Frenchman whom had offended your driver.

 

Francis responded with a shrug. “I never knew zhose Scientologists were really sensitive.”

 

You were going to give Arthur a can-you-believe-this-guy look when you saw him gaping at something.

 

“What is it?” you asked, walking over to where the Brit stood. Following the direction of his gaze, your (e/c) eyes lit up when you discovered what he was staring at. 

 

“It’s the car!” The Brit said, a grin plastered his face.

 

“Zhe car!” 

 

“We found it. I can't believe it!”

 

Francis clasped one of the handles to the car door, hoping to relieve his aching feet, but suddenly stops. “Alfred,” He looked up, concern lacing his blue irises. “Alfred still has the keys.”

 

“I knew it. I knew it! I knew this would happen.” Arthur fumed. With newfound energy, Arthur shouted at the top his lungs, and with all those lyrics he used belt out during his punk phase, he could sure yell.

 

“Alfred! ALFRED!! AAAALLLLFFFFFRRRRREEEEEDDDDDD!!!!!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After what felt like an eternity, in the distance, Alfred was struggling with the air-conditioner and announced his attention with all his hustling and bustling. Slumped over the car, Francis taps you with his elbow, and you tapped Arthur. All looking at the familiar figure running towards you. “Guys?” 

 

“Oui,” Francis sighed.

 

Alfred was now holding that stupid, giant box that imprisoned the accursed AC unit within with an oblivious smile on his face. “Boy, I had a helluva time finding that air-conditioner. I looked everywhere. I completely forgot where I hid it. You know where it was?”

 

“Pink Eleven,” you all said in unison

 

“You see? Sometimes it's good to have a pencil to write these things down. What time is it?”

 

“Seven forty-five,” Arthur said dejectedly. 

 

Alfred grinned as he put the box in the trunk of his car. “Well, at least there's no traffic.”

 

At this point, the Brit’s voice was monotone. “Right.”

 

“What time are the reservations at?”

 

“Seven thirty.”

 

“That might be a problem.” Alfred turns towards you, noticing the absence of your goldfish. “Where's your little bag of…”

 

Arthur shook his head, indicating that he shouldn’t pursue that line of questioning. Taking at least that hint, Alfred withdrew from asking and fumbled around in his pocket to pull out a slip of paper.

 

“Oh…” Alfred peers at the parking stub through his glasses. “Boy, this garage is going to cost a fortune. You know how long we were here?”

 

All of you just wordlessly got in the car as Alfred turned the key in the ignition, purring the engine to life. Lesson learned: bring a pen and paper in case of a first-world emergency. And also, take better car of your cellphones. It's hard to function in a society that revolves around that handy little device.

 

But above all, you have got to pay attention to ALL of your companions, and that includes that Canadian friend of yours who really needs to speak up. He was the only one who remembered where you parked anyway...


End file.
